


Consequence of Laughing

by yuffiehighwind



Series: An Eternity in Cheese Country [7]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-01
Updated: 2003-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Discord visits Deimos to try and banish thoughts of Xena. Meanwhile, Ares mourns the warrior princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consequence of Laughing

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the time gap between S5 Ep 19 "Looking Death in the Eye" and S5 Ep 20 "Livia."

She's sitting on top of the columns again. The sun hasn't risen yet and the people don't know another legend is gone. She wonders if somewhere someone  _does_  notice and is mourning. A mother, perhaps, who doesn't ever see her daughter and so shrugs off the feeling a piece of her is lost forever. That's the risk of having a warrior for a child. That's the risk she took with her son and so too the risk she takes with her daughter. Perhaps today she'll go to his tomb. Maybe she'll put flowers on it and ask his spirit to watch over his sister. A part of her knows he doesn't hear the request; he's dead. But it's the hope that counts. Hope drives human beings and keeps them functioning. Of course, the mother, in some months time, will find her hope lost in the news that will likely spread across the countryside. Her daughter is dead, killed in battle as all warriors eventually are. Another legend gone.

Something doesn't sit right with her as she gazes across the city towards the rising sun. The whole thing seems far too easily accomplished. Then again, years of disappointment due to legends' refusal to die have made her forget how easy being someone like her used to be. It was all about luck, she figures, and the simple matter is that the warrior princess' luck finally ran out, just as all warriors' luck does.

Still, something about it doesn't feel right. Unfinished, unresolved tension hangs in the air. After it happened, after the cart went flying off that cliff, after her brother buried the bodies, for crying out loud, she went to the Fates to make sure. News on Olympus should have been taken at face value, but she never did trust word of mouth. She went to the Fates to confirm it, and they just smiled. One string glinted in the dim lantern light, but it had to be someone else's; the warrior princess was dead. But the Fates just smiled, which they never did. No, none of it felt right.

So she's sitting on top of the columns again  _thinking._  She hopes the story really  _is_  finished, which is silly, because hope is a human thing. Pandora's thing. Then again, Zeus put it there. He must have known something nobody else did. Past tense. Zeus is gone, too. The finality of it all doesn't sit right and neither do the continuing chapters. She wishes the thoughts and the bats in her stomach away and focuses instead on the activities of the day. Fight, war, bicker, war, fight, lunch, discord, conflict, dinner. Maybe she'll go ask Ares what there is to do. No, she can't do that; Ares is a wreck. He's mourning his warrior princess bitch. No, Ares is out. Deimos springs to mind. No, Deimos is  _definitely_  out. Out with a capital "O," no with a capital "N," and not an option in bold, flashing lights. Why he's even a thought is incomprehensible. What are friends, anyway? Useless, needy leeches. Burdens and bores, the lot of them. No, solitude is the way to go. No pleasing anybody else; no needing anybody else, either. Yup, it'll be a good day.

 _Don't sigh, it makes you weak_ , her mind chides. Moments later it relinquishes.  _Fine, call the moron. See if I care!_  And so is off, reaching out like a phone line to see if he's there, which of course he is. He's there amusing himself with mortal riches and food, bored with the sameness of it all. He wonders idly what his cousin thinks of the whole "warrior princess careening off a cliff" thing and there she is, almost petting his brain with a soft invitation to join her. He notices she's sitting on those damn columns again and so surmises that she's uncharacteristically angsting and needs a good roll in the hay as far as he's concerned. She senses the thought and so lets herself fade into a familiar temple that Ares abandoned due to its leaking roof and unsavory locals. The door is boarded up and a patch of morning sun leaks through to shine on a petulant ferret in the corner. Ridiculously sized ham sandwiches litter a pilfered banquet table and Deimos lounges on a nostalgic leopard-print couch. She rolls her eyes.

"Discord, how's Athens? Sunny?"

"Hardly. Apollo has a hangover, I think. Why'd you drag me here?"

" _Drag_  you here? You called  _me_ , babe."

"Don't call me babe. And yes, I called you, but you wouldn't come."

"To those stinking columns? Pssh!"

"I  _like_  the 'stinking columns.'"

Discord sits down beside him and dubiously eyes a sandwich that seems to be walking across the table.

"Why's that?" he asks, yawning and not-so-subtly stretching his arms out to wrap one around her shoulder.

 _Because it reminds me what I am._  

"Because I can watch the mortals from it and zap them as they pass." She notices the arm. "Deimos..."

"I  _know_  why you're here and it's  _not_  for the sandwiches."

Ignoring him, she continues, "I was thinking about yesterday. Ares hasn't moved."

"Don't talk about Dad! You'll kill the mood."

"What mood?" She pulls away and looks incredulously at him.

Looking purposefully and pointing for emphasis, he explains, "The...and the...and...uh...hmmm."

"Let's get this clear right now, Deimos, I am  _not_  going to sleep with you."  _Again._

"Why not?"

"Because you're terrible!"

"Am not."

"Yes, you are. And I  _hate_  you, remember?"

"Then why are you even  _here?_ "

_Damn._

"And why did you...that time...with the...with the  _lips..._?"

_Mistakes made in vain attempts to forget._

Subject change. "Now  _she's_  gone, I would have thought Ares would turn back to normal."

" _Again_  with Ares?"

"Well, have you seen him since...what happened?"

There is a pause then as her nephew first crosses his arms, pouts, then appears thoughtful as though considering the deep impact of something. Then he shakes his head.

"Nope. Can't say I have."

Discord, exasperated, proceeds to vent. "He's even worse than he was when she was alive. Now he won't speak, won't get up or do  _anything_! Why he's acting like he did when..." She breaks off then and suddenly looks miserable. Deimos, confused, shakes her arm, but she just stares at the far wall.

"Discord?" He snaps his fingers in her face. "Discord! What in Tartarus...?"

The ferret scurries over her boot and she kicks it. It runs away squealing.

"He's acting like when Strife died. It pisses me off."

Deimos bites his lip and turns attention back to the ham sandwiches and wine.  _Not this again?_

"I'd bet if  _I_  died he wouldn't care  _at all_."

"Nah, that ain't true," Deimos reassures her, biting into a sandwich.

"Yes it is. He wouldn't care at all. It'd just be another mosquito off his neck. Not like  _Xena_  or  _Strife_. No, nobody cares about  _Discord_. She's just some old harpy who's better off  _dead_. Well ya know what I say to that, Ares? Your  _girlfriends_  are better off dead! Yeah, that's right!"

She's up off the couch, now, knocking over old statues of her former lover and smashing pottery. She rips down old tapestries and cuts the candles with her sword. For good measure, she kills the ferret. Deimos looks on with mild concern, his sandwich halfway finished while she rants and raves some more. Finally, the firecracker goddess sits down, grabs the sandwich from him, pushes away the wine jug he's reaching for and straddles his lap.

"You'll make it all go away, right? Make me forget? Just some of it. Just some of the memories, right?"

She rolls her hips against his for emphasis. Not prepared for the sudden change in attitude, Deimos just stares at her for a few moments trying to figure her out.  _Pissed off goddess with a human complex and obsessive love for her brother in my lap. Not exactly Danielle Steele_...

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to  _say_  anything," she purrs, adding another hip thrust.

"Do...do you want me to say I'd care if you died? 'Cause maybe I would, a little bit, ok? Yeah, I'd care if you died. You're not a...a mosquito, Discord. You're definitely... _not_  a...a mosquito. A little bloodthirsty is all."

Discord leans back and looks at him. Just...looks. Maybe he's serious. Probably not, but it's a nice gesture nonetheless.  _Ewww. Deimos being nice._

"Dork," she says, extricating herself from his lap. Hands grip her waist and pull her back down.

"Uh-uh-uh, you're not getting away so easily," he tsks. Discord struggles a bit to get out of his grasp but he holds her down. "What was it you said about forgetting? 'Cause I'll make you forget your birthday. I'll screw your brains out 'til they leak out your ears and you're seeing  _stars_." He laughs almost psychotically. Discord just rolls her eyes.

"All that, huh?"

"All that and a bag o' chips, babe."

Not believing him and being the betting sort, Discord is naturally tempted to disprove his claim.

"No you couldn't. You can't handle this," she taunts.

"Sure I can."

"Care to bet on that?"

"Yes!"

"And what do I get when I win?"

"Uh..." Here he falters. "Well, uh..."

"You're my slave. My errand boy. You get the dirty jobs and deliver messages to my armies. Or my enemies. Try not to get beaten up too bad."

"And  _when_..."

" _If..._ "

" _When_  I win  _you_  gotta do the same for me. 'Cept you won't be using that pretty little mouth of yours to deliver  _messages_ , get me?"

"You're despicable, puke."

He grins. "I try."

 

* * *

 

Suffice it to say, Discord remembers her birthday, or at least she claims to, not well knowing when exactly she did appear on this plane of existence. He makes an admirable effort, though, and she manages to forget Ares, forget Strife, forget Xena, forget Zeus, forget pain and loss and just bask in the all-consuming heat of another desperate body. It helps that the body claims to care and even bothers to make a noticeable effort to seek her out rather than some random mortal. So the sun rises and Discord doesn't see stars, but a bright, yellow ray streaming through the busted ceiling she even forgets is Apollo. He and the rest of them don't matter, and so neither wins the bet because she remembers her birthday but not her mother's name. She doubts Hera is even it, and so vainly hopes Ares isn't really her brother and doesn't really matter. Nyx is the only mother she needs and so it makes much more sense to her to have been born of the ambiguous ball of matter. Then maybe she can be excused from the family politics that have consumed her all her long life, and all of this comes to mind while the simpler minded god of pain is lost inside her. He doesn't look her exactly in the eye, so she can't tell if he's thinking at all, and when he does look her in the eye, she can see he clearly isn't. But then there's that catch of recognition - _Oh, right, are we gonna do the eye-talking thing?_

"You're beautiful," he mumbles, and Discord finds herself smiling. Actually smiling. "Shut up," she returns and he thrusts just a bit harder muttering, "Make me" and she finds herself laughing. Actually laughing. "So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asks, laughing back.  _How is this happening?_  she wonders, never having had a conversation during sex because Ares was always about time - wam, bam, thank you ma'am. Ares would always start talking afterwards, and always about business. Business. Always.  _Not always. Not in the beginning._  Business, wars, strategies, details. Sit down, shut up, take it like a man, discuss business once it's done. Business. She collects her sensibilities together and replies, "I came here for the drinks, but..."  _String together a sentence, woman._ "...I asked for a Sex on the Beach and the bartender took it literally." Deimos just smiles and, eyes not exactly looking anymore, there it goes. Mother's name forgotten.

 

* * *

 

Time has somehow passed unnoticed and all figure he should be over it by now. She lingers in Ares' doorway just short of entering because last time it got to the point where he was smashing busts. She remembers assuring him of how a certain shade was better off dead and has a speech written in her head along the same lines but can't bring herself to just walk in and say it. He'll never be convinced.

"I know you're there, Discord," comes a deep voice. Normally it's smug, cocky, and sure. Now it's just lined with sorrow. It's  _dripping_  of sorrow. It's almost contagious.

"You can't go on like this," she says from the door. Ares shakes his head. Somewhere there's a hurricane; his eyes are desert dry.

"The family never sees you anymore," she continues.  _I never see you anymore_. A part of her doesn't want to. She's here partly because Athena asked and partly because of the old flame still burning in her gut. And to make sure the unwritten chapters remain unwritten. His grief is so final, Xena  _must_  be dead. Move on.

"The land's torn up with hippies and tyrants. There's little balance or control down there," she prods, leaving the hint that the humans need him.

"I miss you," she adds under her breath, nothing else yielding a response. Pull out the big guns.

"No you don't," he says. The air's thick. Discord doesn't move from the door and her brother doesn't move from his seat. Unsure of what else to try, she murmurs, "She wouldn't want to see you this way."

Ares sighs. Somewhere there's a tornado.

"She wouldn't want to see me at all." He looks Discord, still across the room, in the eye. "Are you finished?"

She nods and slips out the door leaving settling dust the only evidence she was ever there. Ares resumes staring at a far corner. He sighs again and somewhere a ship is blown off course. He doesn't care. His love is gone.

 

* * *

 

She's sitting on top of the columns again fixing in her brain the table of contents to The Idiot Godling's Guide to True Pain and revising the chapter on regret.

It pulls one back from what is important - continuing existence. Determination and moving on. This requires forgetting all the dumb shit and concentrating on the future. The entire process stinks of human so much Discord is compelled to hurl. Luckily, food, shelter, taxes, death, and other such mortal troubles are out of the question. Without these distractions, there is in fact  _more_  time - too much time - left to think.

She recalls terrorizing the population as being her hobby, job, and calling. She fixes in her brain - which isn't a brain at all, too used to the human imagery coupled with being pressed to short, brunette, female form by the late king - the attitude that the world is her chessboard and she can really do anything she wants. If only it hasn't all been done to death before.

An end may be a good change, the not-brain slips, scaring Discord into insistent action. Leave the columns sounds like a good step one, instigating a brawl sounding like a proper step two, taking off from there. Maybe a world - or at least Olympus - domination plot is in order, followed by a mischievous run in with Hercules. He's still alive, isn't he? And that blonde? Iolaus? She should know his name by now, it's been uttered so much in frustration. She recalls having helped him once, but that was to get back at Deimos.

Where was that boy?

Oh, no, not again?

Somewhere, a shower turns cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Like in the original Greek myth, Aphrodite and Ares are the parents of Deimos and Phobos, even though Deimos and Ares are explicitly cousins in TV canon.
> 
> The title comes from the Our Lady Peace song of the same name.


End file.
